Written in the Stars
by sleepingsea
Summary: There's a war coming, one that threatens Idris and the mundane world alike. When Clary Morgenstern, daughter of feared general and politician Valentine Morgenstern, is sent to New York City with a task, she just wants to help the right side win. But which side that is isn't always clear, and soon all she knows is that things are going to change forever.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: All copyrighted material belongs to Cassandra Clare. However, this story is AU and will therefore contain some non-canon pairings and mostly non-canon situations and plots. _

She walked head up, shoulders out, focused entirely on her destination, her stride pure New York. She had quickly realized that that was the best way to function in the city, and she found that it suited her. No eye contact, no shy glances, no memory of the people walking by. And she knew no one would remember her.

Except one person, she thought irritably as she felt the new phone vibrate in her pocket. She pulled it out impatiently. "What?" she asked shortly.

"Clarissa, where are you?"

Clary rolled her eyes. She was starting to get very tired of Hodge and his insistence on near-constant contact. "Shall I give you a play-by-play? I'm at Eighth and Broadway. I'm approaching the subway station. I'm stepping forward..."

"How soon will you be here?" he asked, with a martyred sigh.

"If only I knew. The N is a source of great mystery to me."

"Clarissa," Hodge snapped, and she stopped in her tracks, startled. He was rarely sharp with her, which was why she spoke to him the way she did. "This is important. I found him."

For a moment, she was silent, shocked into speechlessness. Then she recovered. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

And with that, she began to run.

. . .

"I swear to God, Alec, I will end you," Jace muttered, and with that, he shot off Alec's head.

"What the fuck, man?" Alec moaned, watching his virtual body fall. "That's not even how this game works! We're supposed to be a team!"

Jace laughed. "Well, we were right up until you mentioned Greenberg and my mom, at which point you had to go."

"Traitor," Alec said mournfully. "Besides, I think Mr. Greenberg will make a wonderful addition to your family." He raised his eyebrows. "As in, _make _a wonderful _addition _to your family."

"Oh, Christ, Alec, no!" Jace punched his friend in the shoulder and then covered his face. "My mom holding a little mini-Greenberg...why would you put that image on my brain?"

"Well, you did shoot my head off."

"I hope that is seared in your mind's eye forever, much as carnal relations between my mother and my teacher are seared in mine."

Alec considered this. "It probably wouldn't be so horrifying if you didn't refer to it as 'carnal relations.'"

Jace shuddered. "Let's just not refer to it at all."

The two sat in companionable silence for a moment, until Alec checked his watch and sighed. "I should get back. I have work tonight."

"It sucks that you work so much. Actually, it kind of sucks that you work for your parents."

"It's not so bad," Alec said, and Jace noticed again the odd tightness in his voice he got when they talked about his job, something he still didn't know what to make of. "I'd better go, though."

"Yeah, see you," said Jace, looking after him thoughtfully.

Jace and Alec had been friends for a long time, but he had always had the sense that he was missing something important, that there was something Alec wasn't telling him. Isabelle and Max were different, not nearly so mysterious, or brooding, or whatever it was. But then, his mother was the same way as Alec, and so was her friend Luke, who was like a father to Jace.

Privately, he had always thought that Luke would be his father someday, and it hurt a little to know that wasn't going to be true. But then, maybe his mother needed someone happier, someone who didn't seem quite so...haunted. In the edges of his memory, he saw-

_Nothing._ Jace blinked, then rubbed his temples as a familiar headache began to build. They had explained it to him; he had occasional hallucinations, and with it came nausea and headaches. It was nothing to worry about, the doctor had assured him. It was common, and if Jace couldn't find any reference to it no matter how hard he searched, well, research on the condition was just beginning.

Still, he couldn't help feeling sometimes as though everyone around him was hiding something, as much as Luke told him that that was just part of being a teenager.

He pulled out his phone, feeling the sudden need to distract himself, and, with nothing better to do, started a message to Alec.

_Hey. Pandemonium tonight?_

It was rare that Alec texted back while he was working, but today, it seemed, was a slow day.

_Mehh...shitty music._

Jace had to agree, but... _They're 16+, _he pointed out. His fake ID was useless-it said he was thirty-three, for one thing-and, attractive as he was, he had found that attempting to seduce the bouncer was not a good idea. Especially since he didn't really swing that way.

_Fine. 10:30?_

_ See you then. _At this point, he was starting to feel really sick. He leaned back against the couch, and immediately fell asleep.

. . .

Clary had slipped into the club from the back and was now regretting it. Cornering the demon here had seemed like such a brilliant idea at first, but what she hadn't counted on was actually finding it again. And then there was the matter of the Lightwood boy. This Jace was protected, nearly constantly; if it hadn't been for his connection to the New York Institute, she doubted they ever would have found him. Who knew who else was watching over him?

She'd planned on simply letting him see her seraph blade. If he really did have Raziel's blood, he'd see through the glamours. He would be drawn to it. The rest would have been easy. Now, it seemed, she would have to take alternate measures.

She pushed through the crowd, narrowing her eyes. The unfocused part of her, the part of her which she took great pains to shut up but never quite would, was busy trying to work out what part of this place was supposed to be entertaining. How did people ever find each other? Irritably, she weaved her way over to a relatively empty space and examined the room.

She saw a flash of blue hair for a second, then another blur of motion-a tall boy, with dark hair and scars tracing his long arms.

And behind him, another boy, blonde and familiar.

Without a second thought, Clary ran. She could still save this...if she let Lightwood have the demon and followed Jace instead...There was no time to think of another plan. This would have to do.

She placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "Hey, what's the hurry?" she asked, her voice low and warm.

He turned around to face her, a look of annoyance on his face. "My friend-"

Clary cut him off. "It's all right. Now you're making _new_ friends." She grinned, and let her arm slide down to the small of his back. "See?"

This was hardly her best seduction effort, harried as it was, but it seemed to be working well enough as a distraction. He leaned in, putting his hands on her waist. "I guess I am."

She giggled, still calculating but fairly sure he wasn't paying enough attention to notice. She had no idea how good Lightwood was, nor whether he would recognize her, but she didn't want to take a chance on either, which meant she had to get Jace out as soon as possible. "You know," she said playfully to him, "I hear that my place is _very _conducive to new friendships."

He looked surprised for a second, then smiled slowly. "And where is this social paradise?"

"Not far at all," she assured him. "It's in the fifties...and it is _well _worth the walk."

Jace pulled her in, and even through her anxiety she felt a sudden increase in her pulse, heat in her cheeks. "In that case-"

"Jace!"

Clary froze, trying to decide what to do. She knew how suspicious she must look to the other Shadowhunter. She was wearing a turtleneck and jeans to cover her skin and practically dragging Jace out the door, but in her experience of the city, strange behavior was expected, even encouraged. _Just as long as he doesn't recognize me_, she thought fervently.

Lightwood was panting slightly as he joined them, his hair messy and his eyes wild. "Sorry, I-who is _she_?"

Clary tried not to feel insulted by the disgust in his tone.

"Well..." Jace looked at her, apparently at a loss.

"I'm Anna," she said, which was the first female name she could think of. She smiled up at Jace, then, without turning her head, added, "We're a little busy."

Lightwood was scrutinizing her. "I know you."

"I was in a Cheerios commercial when I was younger." Silently, Clary thanked the Angel for Hodge's habit of sleeping with the TV on. She still wasn't entirely sure she knew what a Cheerio was, but she could recite the whole script.

Jace sighed. "Fascinating as all this is, can you leave us alone, Alec?" He pulled her onto the dance floor for emphasis.

"Yeah..." Although he moved away, Lightwood continued to stare at Clary until she and Jace disappeared into the crowd.

. . .

"Sorry about Alec," Jace shouted over the music. "He can be a little, ah...invasive."

"I understand," Anna said, laughing a little. "So how did the two of you meet?"

She had a slight, lilting accent that Jace found very sexy. He leaned in closer, his hands sliding to her hips as their bodies swayed to the music. "I don't really remember. We've been friends for years."

"Mm," she said, then reached up and slid a strand of hair behind his ear. He shivered a little at the contact. "Well, we can always go somewhere where he can't, you know...invade."

Jace did not usually go home with strangers, but he was feeling reckless and still a little off from the headache that afternoon, and maybe even a little angry. With Alec, with his mom, with himself for stubbornly holding on to this strange conviction that they were hiding something. "I wouldn't say no to that."

Anna tensed suddenly. "Looks like your friend's coming back. Come on, let's go."

She pulled him by the hand and darted through the crowd, turning around to smile at him-although even in the darkness it seemed a little forced. He frowned, then thought dryly that it was probably just another hallucination.

He turned around to look, and there was Alec, looking panicked, pushing people out of the way in his haste. Jace stopped, still holding Anna's hand. "Hey, he looks really upset about something. I should wait."

"He probably just doesn't want you to leave," she said, pulling him again.

He looked back at her, frowning again. "Why do you want to leave so badly?" he asked her warily, looking around. They were nearly at the back exit, in the empty hallway behind the main room.

"When you meet a handsome stranger," she said, tracing a line up from his hand to his wrist, and then circling the bone there, "you don't want to let him get away." She looked up, holding his gaze.

Jace grinned at her. "I promise you, I am nothing if not chivalrous." He glanced away. "Come on, he's almost here. Let's just see what he wants."

Anna took a long breath, her hand tightening against his arm for a moment, before another hand grabbed Jace and pulled him away. He stumbled, and, grabbing for support, realized it was Alec.

There was something very wrong here. Alec was nearly always composed; this was completely unlike him.

"_You_," Alec hissed. "I knew you looked familiar." As Anna turned away, he caught her by the shoulder and spun her around.

"Alec!" Jace cried. "She said she was in a commercial-God, what are you doing-"

She pushed him away with apparent ease. "Yes, listen to your friend," she said, oddly calm.

"Don't even try," Alec said coldly. "I should have known it was you."

Anna smirked. "Always missing something, aren't you, Lightwood?"

And before Jace could say anything-before he could ask _what in the hell was going on_-his best friend had pulled out a knife.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks so much to all who reviewed!_

Clary reacted on instinct, snapping around and kicking the back of Lightwood's knee. As he stumbled, she slammed her hand down near his elbow, forcing the hand that held the seraph blade open. It fell and clattered to the floor. She grabbed for it before he could and, lunging forward, held it to his throat.

She stole a look at Jace and sighed. He was standing still, staring at the two of them in utter shock. _What am I going to do?_ He was hardly going to trust her now, which left her options at force and blackmail. Neither was particularly elegant nor, for that matter, reliable, but sometimes that was the way of things.

Turning her attention back to Lightwood, she dug in a little with the seraph blade. "I wonder what the Clave would do if I told them you tried to kill a Morgenstern? Maybe you should leave so we don't have to find out."

"You're the one with the knife at my neck," he said through gritted teeth.

"Well, _tried _is the operative word here." She stared straight into his eyes, letting him see the threat there. "Leave now and everyone will be better off...even Jace. Do you really think you're protecting him?"

At this, Jace unfroze. "What the _fuck _is going on? I'll call the police-I'll-"

Clary laughed. "I'm sure 'Local student reports invisible knife fight' will be the top news item tomorrow." She nodded to Lightwood. "There are a couple things your friend here has failed to mention."

"Yes," he spat, "avoid her, she's a cold-hearted bitch."

She accepted this without comment, although it was strange to hear the hatred in his voice-an adult's voice now. "Jace, you seem intelligent enough. Don't you think I'm giving him a good set of options?"

He stared at her, apparently uncomprehending.

"All right, I'll give you a choice, then: come with me or watch your friend die." For emphasis, she nicked the skin of Lightwood's neck.

"She's lying," he spat. "She won't kill me."

"Oh?" said Clary innocently. "Why is that?"

"It would be...look, Jace, I can't explain it right now, but just trust me, it would cause...problems...where she's from."

"Well, his appeal obviously doesn't lie in his elegant command of the English language," she noted. "Tell me, Jace, does it look like I'm serious?"

She wasn't. Quite aside from the fact that killing a Lightwood would get her dragged in front of the Clave and destroy the political alliances her father maintained so carefully, she didn't have the stomach for it. But Jace was in shock, and all he knew was that a strange girl could quite possibly kill his best friend.

He nodded slowly. She smiled. "We'll get along just fine."

. . .

Jace's thoughts were coming in images and scattered words, his head pounding from the effort of making sense of what was happening. His heart was beating so fast he thought he might pass out; his fingertips were cold from shock.

And then, as though through a dream, he heard a chorus of zombie snarls. His ringtone. He pulled the phone automatically out of his pocket. _Mom, _said the screen.

Anna and Alec were staring at him, the moment of normalcy having startled all three into a confused tableau. "It's my mom," he said, dazed. Out of habit, he swiped his thumb against the bottom and pressed it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Jace!" Her voice was panicked, as though she knew what was happening to him at that moment. It seemed to fit, seemed impossible that anything could be casual. "Jace, _don't..._" A series of crashes covered her next words. "...stay in Manhattan with Alec..." He heard what sounded like something falling, a whisper of "...love you," a scream. And then nothing.

He was dreaming. He had to be. These things didn't happen to him, didn't happen to real _people_, just video footage narrated by impassive newscasters. But as much as he told himself that, the fear continued to rise in him, and he turned back. "I have to go to Brooklyn," he said, without inflection or affect.

Both looked stunned.

"I really don't know how I can make myself any clearer," said Anna. "You're coming with me."

"Fine," he said, drawing on courage that he didn't know he had, "but after. My mom is in trouble. You tried to kidnap me and someone else came after my mom in the same night. That can't be coincidence."

She looked thoughtful.

"Alec...Anna..." Helplessly, he looked at each in turn, pleading.

Anna had, mercifully, pulled the knife away from Alec and, unconcerned, was cleaning it with a rag she had apparently pulled out of her back pocket. "It's Clary, actually."

Alec was still on the floor. His left leg lay at a strange angle; Jace was almost certain it was broken. With obvious effort, he pulled himself upright. "I swear on the Angel, Morgenstern, I will kill you."

She looked bored. "I get that all the time. Jace," she added, "we'll go to Brooklyn...on one condition. Give me your hand."

It took him a moment to process, but he obeyed. She looked over at Alec. "I can Mark him, can't I?"

"Yes," Alec said bitterly.

She pulled another knife out of her pocket, and he backed away away. "What are you going to do?" he asked warily.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you," she said.

He looked over at Alec, who, utterly defeated, nodded. He gave her his hand again. She examined it for a moment, then began to draw on him with the knife.

The sensation was like nothing he'd ever felt-a burning pain, strangely intense yet not particularly unpleasant, though he was glad when she finished.

"What did you do to him?" Alec asked wearily.

"Binding rune," she responded. Then she turned to him. "I assume I can count on you not to say anything about tonight, but if you were thinking about it, just remember, you have just as much to hide as I do."

Alec sagged to the floor, but when Jace turned around once more as he left, their eyes met. "I'll find you," Alec mouthed. "Don't worry."

And, even through everything, Jace couldn't remember having felt more grateful than he did in that moment.

. . .

Clary was not pleased with recent events.

Although it had been more or less effective, the way she had handled the situation left too many loose ends for comfort. She was reasonably sure that Lightwood would stay silent on the matter, but that would not be enough in her father's eyes, nor, for that matter, was it enough in her own.

And speaking of her father, what, exactly, did he want with Jace's mother? Assuming this wasn't someone else trying to get to Jace himself, which was also possible. She stared fixedly at the window in front of her, although all she could see was the darkness of the subway tunnel. It didn't make her feel better.

Taking Jace, introducing him to his Shadowhunter heritage, protecting him-that was one thing. He had angel blood, like she did, her father had told her. It made him vulnerable. It made him a potential weapon for the other side. And they were never going to _imprison _him, just keep him away from the people who would hurt him, or hurt others by using him. But his mother...that was different. What possible purpose could taking her back to Idris serve?

She looked sideways at Jace, who was looking pale and miserable, and felt a stab of remorse. Of course this was the right thing. Of course this was what had to happen. She just wished that no one had to be hurt.

_We are on the brink of war. Don't be weak, _she ordered herself.

"I didn't mean to scare you earlier," she said, her voice unexpectedly soft. "I'm not going to hurt you."

He turned sharply to look at her. He really was beautiful, she thought. "I agreed to go with you because you were going to kill my friend. I am _not _here by choice."

Clary looked away. "I know."

The subway screeched to a stop. "This is us," Jace said abruptly.

She nodded. "I'll follow you."

As they walked, Clary became very aware of the silence, something she was surprised to realize was beginning to bother her. Normally she preferred the quiet, but something-guilt, maybe-had her nervous, on edge. She took a long, slow breath, trying to calm herself. _This is the way things have to be_.

It felt like a very long time before they reached Jace's apartment building, although it was probably only around fifteen minutes. She could see in the set of his face that he was beginning to feel truly afraid, and tried to push her misgivings away. There had to be a reason for this, if it was her father at all. Standing in the elevator, she glanced over at him, wanting to say something but not knowing exactly how.

The hallway was unnervingly quiet, and, according to her Sensor, demon-free. She looked for signs of destruction, but there were none, not even, she realized, on the floor or doorframe of what she took to be Jace's apartment. He had stopped at the door, apparently steeling himself.

She let out a long breath as he turned the key. "I'll go first," she said. "We don't know what's..." Seeing the look on his face, she fell silent and checked her Sensor again. "There's probably nothing." She opened the door with some trepidation, not really wanting to know what was behind it.

The first thing she registered was that it was a mess. Furniture lay broken throughout the room, shards of vases on the floor.

"Oh God," Jace whispered, and knelt on the floor, examining something. Clary bent down to look, and bit her lip. It was a series of gouge marks, made unmistakably by demon claws. She trailed them with her eyes and noticed spots of what looked like old blood.

Not wanting to alarm him, she said nothing, but followed the path of the blood. From what she could tell, Jace's mother had tried to run before having been taken by some sort of demon. She sighed, relieved-it seemed that the woman was still alive, or at least she had been when she left the apartment.

When she returned, she found Jace still bent over the marks in the floor, shaking. As she drew closer, she realized he was crying: long, heaving sobs that made her confused and uncomfortable. This wasn't how things were supposed to go.

"I think your mother is alive," she said abruptly, and then, when he looked at her and she saw the utter devastation in his face give way to hope, she had to turn away. When she spoke again, her voice was a little hoarse. "Come on, there's no point staying here."

. . .

Jace had been moving in a haze of grief and panic ever since they had left Brooklyn. Clary had been almost completely silent, for which he supposed he was grateful, although he couldn't remember ever having hated anyone as much as he did her.

He was certain she had something to do with what had happened; it couldn't be a coincidence that she had effectively kidnapped him the same night his mother was attacked. It was painful to think the words. What he would give to have her say that things were going to be all right, that _she _was all right.

The image of Alec with a knife to his neck was almost equally haunting. He had been right, apparently-all along, they had been hiding something from him. They had been protecting him from this, whatever it was. This nightmare. He dragged a hand through his hair and drew a ragged breath. "What's going on?" he asked, so suddenly that Clary tensed almost into a fighting stance.

"I'll explain later," she said tersely, continuing to walk.

"No!" he snapped, building into a shout. "My apartment is destroyed, my mom has disappeared, you threatened to kill my best friend-who apparently you know-and I've been kidnapped. What the _fuck_ is going on?"

She rubbed her eyes, looking very tired, and he wanted to shake her. What right did she have to be tired? After everything she'd done, how could _she _look so self-righteous, so martyred, so weary? "I'm told patience is a virtue," she said.

"Yeah, well, so is _not breaking every law in the state of New York!" _He could feel himself becoming vaguely hysterical by this point.

"Actually, if you think about it, I really only broke about two laws," she pointed out.

"Not. The. Point."

"Fine," she said. "I'm something called a Shadowhunter. You are too. We kill demons, and we live in a parallel dimension called Idris. I'm taking you to my father to protect you-and us-because there are people that want to use you as a weapon. Also, you have angel blood. Happy?"

He stared at her. "Are you being sarcastic, or are you just insane?" he asked faintly.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, at least I can say I tried." With that, she turned decisively to the building next to them.

It was one of those buildings that he could only imagine as the homes of famous people, so upscale that it seemed impossible that anyone actually lived in them. As Clary pressed the button for one of the apartments, he backed away a little, feeling self-conscious. It was strange, he noted dimly, that he could still feel something so...normal.

"Yes?" a tinny voice said.

"I need a Portal, Bane," Clary said coldly.

"Ah," the voice sighed, and although it was tinny through the speakers, Jace could hear the theatricality, the expansiveness of it. "Morgenstern, as ever, you wound me with your lack of warmth."

She rolled her eyes. "And you continue to waste my time."

"Say please." Jace was beginning to like whoever this was.

"_Please_," she said through gritted teeth.

There was no response but the sound of the buzzer. Clary pushed through the door, which fell back on Jace and hit him straight in the nose. Glaring, he added that to the list of reasons to hate her and followed.

"What did you mean, portal?" he asked as she pressed the button for the elevator.

"I don't think there's any point in my explaining," she said, tracing the relief of the "up" arrow as though deep in thought. "Just pretend I said subway."

He would have asked more, but the elevator door opened at that moment, and her condescension was annoying him anyway. He stepped in and watched the numbers go up, feeling more helpless than he had in his life. Escape seemed completely impossible, unthinkable-he had gone numb in a way that prevented him from thinking, almost from moving. He glanced at the symbol Clary had drawn on him. _Insane, _he thought hopelessly_. She's completely insane._

Except that Alec had spoken to her as though he understood, and the apartment... An almost physical pain shot through him when he thought about what he had seen.

He shuddered, not wanting to think about it any longer, and was almost glad when the elevator stopped.

Clary walked purposefully down the hallway and knocked on a door, which opened almost immediately to reveal-Jace blinked. He hadn't known exactly what to expect, but it certainly hadn't been this, a man covered in glitter and grinning a wide, feral grin.

"Morgenstern," he said, and Clary nodded by way of greeting. He turned to Jace and looked speculatively at him, scrutinizing him up and down in a way that made him want to hide. It was as though he knew everything about him, as though he had seen into his mind-

Jace winced, feeling the familiar headache coming on. _Not now_, he thought desperately, but it was building, made worse by his exhaustion and stress. He tripped, and in an instant Clary had caught him, stabilizing his swaying body.

"Don't worry," the man said, his smile widening. "I often have that effect on people." He extended a hand. "Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn, at your service."

Jace shook his hand, having only understood the last three words.

"He has no idea what you're talking about," Clary said.

"The best part of making Portals for members of your family," Magnus said thoughtfully, "is that I get to see you leave."

Clary smiled thinly. "I wouldn't want to deny you that pleasure."

He opened the door and indicated the wall behind him. "Off you go, then. _You_, on the other hand..." He gave Jace another slow smile.

"And that's our cue to leave," Clary said, and with that, she pulled Jace forward. She was unexpectedly strong, and he stumbled again, seeing black start to close around his vision.

She took a step forward, and he with her, and then suddenly they were _in _the wall, and all he knew was that they were falling...falling...falling...


End file.
